“I do believe that was two out of three. I'll take my cash in twenties, thank you.” I cockily tell my friend Drew as I sink the black eight ball.

“Fine.” He grumbles, handing over the money. I pocket the money and turn to face the asshole of a twenty-something year old guy who had dared to say that he would take it easy on me.

“It's your turn, gramps.” The guy in question pushes back off from against the wall. He couldn't have been but maybe two years my senior and he was way taller than my 5'3. 'Fiery things come in small packages.' I had always been told and I was sure to take the saying to heart. Don't get me wrong, I knew when to shut up, my mother had made sure I knew that well. Let's just say it wasn't my father that I got my temper from.

“How about we raise the stakes?” He asks, ruffling a hand through a thick mess of brown curls. British accent. What was he doing in Mississippi?

“Like what?” A cheeky grin makes its way onto his face and I immediately feel the need to slap it off. The guy was looking at me like I was a piece of meat, as for why I had no clue. I was dressed in jeans, an ratty Guns 'N' Roses tee, and my old leather jacket my dad had bought for me.

“If I win, a date.” Wow. How cliché.

“And if I win?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment.

“My motorcycle.”

“Which one is it?” I ask, looking out the window behind me to see the near empty parking lot.

“That Harley Breakout right there.” He answers, pointing to the beautiful bike.

“Are you kidding me? You're going to bet that bike over a stupid pool game?”

He shrugs. “Why not? I can always get another.”

I shake my head at his stupidity and move to the pool table.

“Let's play.”

Fuck. I'm going on a date with a complete stranger.

“I'll see you tomorrow at six. Don't be late.” He whispers in my ear, making my skin crawl. He was definitely attractive, what with the brown curly hair and green eyes, but he just had a demeanor about him that made me want to stay far, far away from him.

Scowling, I thrust my phone at him and urge him to put his number in it. He smiles, a deep dimples making an appearance in both cheeks.

“Whatever. See you later, Curly.”

I grab my backpack off the bar, waving to Jules the bartender as I make my way towards the door.

“See you later!”

“You tell your mom I said hey.”

“I will.”

I move to my old pick up, tossing my bag in the bed of the truck.

I had been driving the stupid thing all week considering my bike was in the shop. And it wasn't even my fault! Some prick from Red and Gold, a rival motorcycle club had “accidentally” knocked over my bike.

Complete bull if you ask me.

I turn the key in the ignition, sighing when the engine fails to turn over. Piece of trash.

I jump in surprise at a knock on the driver's window.

I roll it down a little, peering at the guy from earlier.

“Curly. What do you want?” In his defense, I did sound rather rude.

“Just wanted to help you out.” He puts his hands up in a harmless way and I sigh again. I was already going on a date with the guy, why not get some use out of it?

The door sticks as I try and get out of the truck.

“Oh my God.” I mutter in embarrassment. He laughs, tugging a little on the handle and getting it to open.

I hop out and move to the front of the truck, popping the hood.

“So what do you think is wrong-” My sentence is suddenly cut off as I feel a hand wrap around my mouth. Oh hell no.

I begin bucking hard against his hold, panicking when he is able to hold my with one arm while he digs something out of his pocket.

Please don't be a gun. Please don't be a gun.

Shit! I catch a breath of air as I see what he's holding. I've seen enough crime shows to know that a rag usually has chloroform on it. Bastards trying to kidnap me!

I keep kicking and trying to hit him as he presses the cloth against my nose.

“Breathe.” He whispers, quietly. Demented freak!

After not being able to hold my breath any longer, I take a sharp lungful of air, grimacing when the sweet smell fills my nose.

“That's it. Nice and quiet. Liam, Zayn, come here!” Two more figures appear and my eyes begin to droop. I feel myself being handed over to someone and I can't really make out any figures in the darkness.

A few more breaths and black spots begin to fill my vision.

I'm put into the back of a van, one I didn't see earlier.

There's only one thing I'm worrying about right now and considering the situation I'm in, it doesn't make sense.

What about my truck?

Notes

So this is my story. I work super hard on it, so please don't copy it.